


Tele‐Group Ice Plateau

by Triora



Category: Runescape (Video Games)
Genre: Action, Black Hole (Runescape), Combat, Gen, Male Protagonist, POV Third Person Limited, Player Vs. Player, Present Tense, Wilderness (Runescape)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26619334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triora/pseuds/Triora
Summary: They say he has it all, but he wants more. With runes to cast the Tele‐Group Ice Plateau spell, he heads to the newly‐released Grand Exchange, ready to lure unsuspecting players.Equipment on, fish in backback, he clicks the spell to trap his victims, and the world around him changes…
Kudos: 2





	Tele‐Group Ice Plateau

* * *

So cold. Why is he freezing? He looks around. Ice. Whiteness. Light blue… Giants? Massive men, as if sculpted of ice, walk around. He squints his eyes. Why are their edges so rough?

He feels strangely heavy. He’s wearing… There’s no way. The iconic Bandos chestplate that he won from General Graardor. Spikes on shoulder, everything.

Flashes of light appear around him. He gasps. Out of them appear other people. Some have combat gear, others wear plain clothes. His eyes widen. One has a bright blue Party Hat. He always dreamed of having one, but they just kept creeping up in price faster than he could make money.

He looks down at the ground. A blood‐red coil, with deadly spikes. He gasps. _The whip._ An arrow hits his chestplate, and he flinches.

_Brew._ He looks around. Next to him lies a large backpack, filled to the brim. He opens the flap, and grabs the yellow potion at the top. Hastily uncorking it, he pulls it to his lips. His arms shake too much to hold it still, and the yellow liquid splashes all over his face. The taste is as foul as he ever imagined, but somehow he feels the pain easing.

A woman in light‐blue robes turns toward him, holding up a purple staff. _Mystics. Shit._

He tries to move his legs, but he’s already frozen. His vision becomes hazy as a cube of ice forms around his body. _Fuck, Ice Barrage._ The cold cuts through his skin, reaching his bones. If only he could even shiver to get past the coldness. How could this happen, how could it be real?

At last the ice melts around him, and his limbs can move again. He leans over his backpack, grabbing another vial of Saradomin Brew. Off the cork goes, and again he presses his lips against the glass. Turning his head upward, he gulps the potion down. Despite the terrible taste, he feels a surge of energy running through his body.

Yellow shapes, like letters, appear above people’s heads. He tries to speak, but no words come out. He wants to say he’s sorry, to take back what he did. He turns around, his eyes searching for a way out. Where’s the logout button, where’s the exit game sign?

Another arrow hits him, right above the coverage of his chestplate. The stinging makes him falter, but there’s no blood. Someone dancing in plain clothes. More yellow text. His hands catch his fall backward. Ice‐cold ground.

A set of cyan Rune armor enters his field of view. The figure runs toward him, wielding the massive two‐hander of the same metal. The clink‐clank rhythm approaches. Someone like that he’d kill in one or two hits. _Kill?_ He looks down at the ground. His Abyssal Whip lies there untouched. He bends his knees, and curls his fingers around the handle. Another arrow flies just past him as he stands up.

Before he can act, the two‐handed sword swings toward him, hitting his chestplate and tassets. He feels nothing—the armor protected him perfectly. He lashes out the whip as the figure simply stands in place. His whip hits the armor, and its spikes dig into its plating. The figure flinches, and kneels down.

He pauses for a moment, his eyes widening. Did he just kill someone? The pile of armor collapses onto the ground with a series of clings and clangs. Did the person inside simply vanish? Is this what happens if you die?

A multitude of arrows hit him. A series of stabs strike against his back. He turns around to see a dark‐red dagger with a green tip. A block of ice forms around him, and his vision blurs and darkens.

* * *

Blackness, everywhere. His body feels lighter—his armor is gone. He reaches out, but feels nothing.

_Backpack._ He reaches down, trying to find it. There. He opens the flap and puts his hands inside. Nothing. It’s empty.

A gruff voice speaks, as if in his own head, “Welcome to the Black Hole. I am Thordur, the Removed Dwarf.”

“The Black Hole?” He looks around. “That doesn’t… exist anymore.”

“Many believe so.”

“Where are you?” He tries reaching out again.

“I am not where you are,” the voice speaks. “You see, my creators decided I had served my purpose, and attempted to remove me from the game. Little did they know, my abilities had grown during my year of service. The cheaters caught in my Black Hole, in all their desperation, gave me crucial information on how the game worked. Through my false bargains with them, I extracted all I needed to transcend the code, to hide and ingrain myself into the system. And as for the Black Hole, we were so closely associated that we became inseparable, surviving together. Over the years I have been further strengthened by all the anti‐cheating mechanisms added to the game, for I am the spirit of fair play. All this I tell you to feed your soul before your demise, for my Black Hole is—”

“Hungry… So hungry,” another voice spoke, coming from every side of the room.

A pressure. His body feels under pressure. The walls, somehow the walls are compressing toward him. His body twists and turns, desperately trying to fit itself into the tightening space. Something slimy presses against his arms, his legs, his entire body.

The voice speaks from all around him, “You… You have lost.”

The pressure crushes his body, and the Black Hole consumes his soul.


End file.
